


stakeout

by starrypools



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Desperation, Don't Like Don't Read, F/M, Omorashi, Watersports, Wetting, takes place mid season 2, this is (and i cannot stress this enough) a piss kink fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:33:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22207177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrypools/pseuds/starrypools
Summary: Trying not to piss herself in front of her not-boyfriend for hours on end proves to be difficult for Amaya.
Relationships: Nate Heywood/Amaya Jiwe
Kudos: 13





	stakeout

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know what this is but I couldn't find any LoT piss fics so I wrote one. OOC? Probably. Am I proud of it anyway? Definitely.

“You okay?”

“Hm?” Amaya blinks twice and turns her head away from the car window to look over at Nate in the driver’s seat. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?” He sounds slightly unsure of himself (which he _never_ does) and his eyebrows knit together in a half-frown. “You just seem uncomfortable, is all.”

Amaya internally kicks herself and silently yells nearly every word her mother would argue a lady should never say. They’ve been stuck together in the car for _three hours_ on a stakeout of sorts, watching to make sure their abberation never leaves the building the rest of the team is in. She’s the first to understand that every state capital building is huge, and there’s no way they can make a scene when they have to be subtle enough for the abberation to not catch on, but she has to pee _so bad_ that no amount of using the totem to channel a camel can help her anymore.

“My legs are just stiff,” she lies, and looks straight ahead towards the door so he can’t tell. It’s believable enough – Mick could not have stolen a more uncomfortable car for their stakeout – but she was hoping Nate wouldn’t have questioned her constant fidgeting to begin with.

Nate shifts in the seat beside her and hums in agreement. “Yeah, Mick really dropped the ball on this one. These seats are gonna haunt me.”

Amaya nods silently and reaches a hand up to fidget with the totem hanging around her neck. It’s a habit she picked up for comfort when she was missing Zambesi, but it doesn’t comfort her _at all_ when she’s so uncomfortable. All she wants is for Sara to come on the comms and say they stopped the abberation, but if it’s been three hours, she’ll be shocked if they’re out of there in another hour.

She usually doesn't mind stakeouts, especially not when Nate is there with her. However, she really wishes she wasn't assigned it this time because she knows she’s not allowed to leave the car since it means they risk losing the guy possibly trying to escape, and she really has _not_ enjoyed sitting there in pain next to her not-boyfriend for hours. Every second that passes makes her more and more desperate, and after not even two minutes of silence, her constant fidgeting turns into constant squirming, and she desperately hopes Nate isn’t paying enough attention to see her pressing her thighs together and tapping her feet faster than a speedster just to not wet herself right there.

He’s paying plenty of attention – it’d be impossible not to while sitting two feet away from her – and Amaya bites back a pained groan when he asks, “Okay, seriously, what’s wrong?”

She clenches her fists against her thighs and grips the fabric of her skirt, and she tries to ignore the way he’s looking at her while she stares straight ahead, pretending to look for the abberation that she’s long shoved to the back of her brain. She can see how confused and worried he looks out of the corner of her eye, and it makes her heart pang with guilt. “It’s nothing.”

She wouldn’t believe herself, but she still curses internally when Nate inevitably doesn’t believe her, either. “Amaya. Come on.”

“You’re stubborn,” she notes, trying to sound as normal as possible.

Nate doesn’t believe that one, either, and he frowns at her. “You’re freaking me out.”

Nate doesn’t sound frustrated, just concerned because _none of this is chill and he cares about her a lot,_ and Amaya bites her lip so hard it bleeds and squeezes her shaking thighs together as hard as she possibly can. She’s too embarrassed to admit it, but it _hurts_ and she can’t hold it much longer based on the way her bladder is threatening to empty itself right then and there, and she whimpers a small “I can’t” that she doesn’t know if she's aiming at Nate or at herself.

(And, her logical brain is screaming at her to ignore her bladder and make sure the abberation doesn’t get away, but it’s been long since forgotten about for both of them as Nate looks over at her with panicked eyes and all she can focus on is not pissing herself).

“Hey.” His voice is soft and he reaches out to put a hand on her shoulder.

The sudden contact makes her jolt and she can feel heat spreading across the fabric of her panties as a stream rushes out. She lets out an embarrassing whine and nearly doubles over, pressing a hand in between her thighs to stop it. It works, luckily, but she can feel how close the fabric is to being too soaked to hold anything else, and she knows that Nate knows and it makes her want to crawl into a hole and die.

“Ohhhh,” he draws out, his brain seemingly putting all the pieces of the puzzle together. His hand never leaves her shoulder, and instead he starts to run his fingers up and down the exposed skin of her upper arm. “You have to pee?”

Amaya tries to speak but all that comes out is a choked sound from the back of her throat as she lifts her head up a little to look at him. She doesn’t know what to expect, and her brain swears he’s gonna hate her and make fun of her forever but instead he’s looking down at her with the most sympathetic eyes she’s ever seen and it’s so overwhelming that she wants to cry.

“I’m sorry I freaked you out,” she manages, and she leaks again, only able to stop it once her panties are officially soaked and she can feel liquid on the hand she’s using to hold herself.

“No, no, it’s okay,” Nate says, so quickly that his words jumble a little, and Amaya lets out a half-laugh.

“I can’t even move,” she admits, her voice so thick that it sounds like she’s been crying, even though she hasn’t. No amount of begging her body and squirming can stop the fact that she’s about to have an accident and getting out of the car is only going to make it happen faster. _What’s the point of her totem if it’s not gonna help her_ _not piss herself_ _?_

“I know.” He glances up quickly at the long forgotten door they’re supposed to be watching. "It's okay."

"It's not," she argues, and hangs her head a little lower. 

"It _is,_ " he argues back, and looks back down at her. He gives her a kind smile, and adds, “This car sucks, anyway.”

She wants to keep fighting it, but the sympathy in his eyes and in his smile is too much for her and she can’t hold it anymore. She lets out a horrible gasp when she feels her body start to relax against her will, but she can’t fight it anymore and she lets her hands fall away from her thighs as she starts to wet herself. It starts as a small stream, wetting the insides of her thighs and dripping onto the seat below her, but it feels so good that she can’t help but relax even more.

She moans in a way she would find embarrassing if she was paying any attention to anything except the fact that she’s desperately peeing herself, and her thighs are soaked and the seat underneath her is soaked and the stain on her skirt where it fell between her thighs is spreading way too fast for her liking. It’s so quiet in the car that all she can hear is the sound of it hissing out of her and pooling onto the seat below when the fabric can’t absorb it anymore.

“I’m sorry. I can’t stop,” she whispers, and she knows she’ll be embarrassed later but the feeling of finally emptying her bladder is bliss, even if it’s in her clothes. It’s so euphoric that she doesn’t even catch what he says back to her-- all she can do is focus on the feeling of the stream finally tapering off, streaming directly through her ruined panties and soaking her skirt instead.

And then it’s over, and she can see Nate out of the corner of her eye, mouth agape and staring, and she flutters her eyes shut so she doesn’t have to think about the fact that he saw all that. It feels so _good_ to not be in pain anymore but the embarrassment is creeping its way back in, only a fraction of what it was before, but still, she doesn’t know what to say. Luckily, she doesn’t have to, because he breaks the silence first.

“You—do you feel better now?” He clears his throat, and Amaya cracks her eyes open to glance at him.

“Yeah,” she says, and takes a deep breath to calm her shaky voice.

He pauses, trying to collect his words, before he finally settles on, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He thinks he knows the answer before she even says it, but his suspicious are confirmed when she crosses her arms over her chest and says, “I’m a grown woman.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to be embarrassed, you know?”

Amaya doesn’t reply to him, because there is _no way_ she won’t be embarrassed. She’s never been one to easily get flustered, and she’s nowhere close to being as embarrassed as she was before (especially since something about her pissing herself _definitely_ made Nate hard, but she won’t mention that she noticed it), but in her head she can picture Sara explaining it as her being concerned for her “street cred” or some other slang she never learned in the 1940s.

“Hey.” He pokes her cheek with his finger and she tries to fight back a smile at the action, but he notices it immediately and breaks into a grin. “There it is.”

“You don’t have to make me feel better,” Amaya says, and Nate shakes his head before she can even finish the sentence.

“That’s my job,” he says with a grin she can only describe as cocky. “And you call _me_ stubborn.”

Before Amaya can say a version of _you are the most stubborn person I’ve ever met,_ the comms make a horrible static noise that means someone tapped on it, and then Sara is speaking. “Hey, you guys. We got the abberation.”

Amaya’s comms have been off all night so she can only hear, not speak, so she has no problem immediately saying, “Oh, you have gotta be _kidding_ me.”

Nate laughs, leaning his head against the seat to look at her. “I can cover for you.”

“How are you gonna explain this?” Amaya gestures to the stain on her skirt, and she’s glad the car isn’t any of the team’s because of how soaked the seat is.

“Easy.” He grips the steering wheel and sits up a little taller. “I knocked over a water bottle trying to get frisky with you.”

“ _Nate!”_


End file.
